We made it the whole long, challenging trip home, no problems, no hiccups and I felt good the whole time...and have been wiped ever since :). What a few weeks it has been, and it really took it out of us in ways we didn't realize till the journey was done. Suddenly, I feel 63 weeks pregnant and 56 years old, and the kids are dragging.
Dear Nora had a breakdown at school on Friday and they had to call me, which has never, ever happened...and all I knew to say was, "We've been through a lot...I guess we need a few days!" Then this morning I woke up to Ben in our room, talking sweetly to the dog, saying, "Gracie, if you don't have water, tell God, and God will take care of you. If you don't have any food, God will help you get food. If you don't have any toys, God will take care of you."
Reality is, it's quite the stark and rapid transition, and it's a lot to process. The "How was Haiti?" question feels almost impossible, and after missing several weeks of life here, it's been a rapid fire of lessons, a wedding shower, a birthday party, church, family dinner, lunch with the oldest Heckman who moved here while we were in Haiti, a doctor appointment for mom, school for all four kids Friday, and Matt preaching Saturday.
Life from last week feels very far away from life this week, and our minds are on baking cookies for the party and on those who are praying for food. It's heavy, and in ways none of us are doing a good job describing as we try to keep up and catch up.
I am thankful for the restructuring of our global reality, again, and for the ways things here that felt so stressful a few weeks ago feel so much less important this week. Thankful for the ways our family in Haiti is fighting to be faithful...the same fight I see in many of our friends here.
The moment that struck me sharpest, however, was this morning in church. The sermon was done and having some kind of ridiculous pregnancy pinched nerve in my back, I was sitting there in the dark listening to Lindsey's God-given voice sing King of Kings.
In the darkness we were waiting
Without hope without light
Till from heaven You came running
There was mercy in Your eyes
To fulfil the law and prophets
To a virgin came the Word
From a throne of endless glory
To a cradle in the dirt
I'm sitting there in the darkness, Haiti heavy on my mind, and I'm waiting with her, in the darkness...feeling the absence of hope, of light.
And our God, from glory, came running, running for all of our countries, for all people, with mercy.
Weirdly, though, what nailed me was the cradle in the dirt.
Everything in Haiti, well, it's in the dirt. You are covered in it, constantly, it covers everything. You are dirty and gritty and sweaty, always, the screens, the fans, the cars, everything, it's covered in dirt or mud or both, just always. The landscape is largely dirt, the roads, the markets, the island.
Every time we have EVER returned to America, it's the CLEAN and straight and white that strikes you. Closed windows and paved roads and air conditioning means things just look and feel SO different. So much less gritty, sticky, dust.
Somehow, as we sang today that the God of heaven ran, from His throne of endless glory to a cradle in the dirt...it just reminded me that He came for Haiti just as full, that He entered dirt, on purpose. That He's got "in the dirt" covered.
That He gets where we were last week, and where we are this week, and CAME for it. Signed up for it. Ran into it.
So I can, too.
"In the dirt" is what He signed up for, so we can too. HARD is getting dirty with people, going dirty places, loving dusty people, living lives in the dirt--though they are harder to live. I want to raise kids who
No comments:
Post a Comment